Why do We Have Confession with a Priest Present?
Q: If we can make confession to God
without the priest, then why do we have confession with a priest present?
A: In the early Church, confession was
public; that is, one confessed one’s sins in the presence of the entire faith
community. When this became impractical, it was the priest who “stood in” for
the community, as its presiding officer and as its witness to the penitent’s
repentance.
Further, while we can indeed confess
directly to God—even a casual reading of the daily prayers reveals that we
should do this—we often find that we need help and advice in overcoming the
very things we have confessed.
We do not confess “to” the priest;
rather, we confess to God “in the presence of” the priest who, as the prayer
before Confession clearly states, is God’s “witness” and who, having witnessed
our confession of sins offers pastoral advice on how we can better our lives
and overcome the very things we can confess. Just as one would not attempt to
diagnose, much less cure, one’s own physical ailments, so too one should not
attempt to diagnose, much less cure, one’s own spiritual ailments.
It is often the case that those who
object to revealing their sins in the presence of a priest or to seek his
advice have no qualms about revealing their sins to their neighbors, friends,
psychiatrists, and so on, usually with the intention of obtaining advice—advice
that is not necessarily godly or spiritually profitable, or even just plain
“good,” for that matter.
Many years ago, a woman cornered my
wife at coffee hour and told her that she was having an affair. She asked my
wife’s advice.
My wife advised her that perhaps she
should speak to me about this. The women replied, “But he’s a priest—I couldn’t
tell him that!” This is somewhat akin to the person who finds a huge lump on
his or her body, goes to the doctor, and then asks the receptionist to diagnose
it. No doubt the receptionist would suggest that he or she have a seat and
allow the doctor to look at it, only to find that the person with the huge lump
replies, “But the lump’s much, much to big for me to show to the doctor!”
So, we confess in the presence of the
priest to acknowledge that our sins, whether we wish to accept it or not,
affect the entire faith community on the one hand, and that we cannot “heal
ourselves” on the other. The priest is there to help us overcome those things
for which we seek forgiveness, to give advice that a friend or neighbor might
not be in a position to give, and to bear witness on behalf of the faith
community, of which he is the spiritual father, that we have indeed repented
and been forgiven by God.
Q: Can’t
I go to God, who already knows what I’ve done, and confess?
A: Yes,
one can confess directly to God—but refusing to confess in the presence of a
priest implies that one can also be one’s own spiritual physician. If this were
so, then one wouldn’t find that one is generally confessing the same sin, over
and over again—which not only implies that one is not making progress in
overcoming one’s sin and also implies, perhaps, that one really doesn’t want
help in overcoming one’s sins in the first place! [There are indeed those who
commit certain sins, ask God’s forgiveness, feel that the slate is “clean,” and
then plan the next occasion upon which the same sin can once again be
committed. This is not “confession” in any sense, and this does not generate
forgiveness, precisely because there is no desire to “repent,” or “change.”] On
the spiritual level, one who refuses to seek spiritual advice from one’s father
confessor is somewhat like the person who refuses to see a surgeon because he
or she would rather perform his or her own brain surgery. While I suppose one
could pull out a few knives and a can opener and attempt this, it is not likely
that it will be a success!
Q: However,
if someone has commited a sin they want nobody to know about except that person
and God, then what’s the problem with confessing only to God since he is the
only one who can forgive sins.
A: By
hiding what one has done, one commits another sin. Have you ever told a lie in
order to get yourself out of a situation, only to find out that by telling the
lie you are required to tell additonal lies—and so on and so on and so on?
Consider this: One day, when our
daughter was four years old, I was taking a mid-afternoon nap on the couch. She
came running into the living room in an agitated state, demanding that I give
her a kleenex. [In the past, she had always gotten her own kleenex, so this was
rather odd.] I told her to get her own kleenex, as she had done so many times
in the past, but she insisted I give one to her. I did. She ran up the steps to
her bedroom and slammed the door shut.
A few minutes later, she woke me up,
asking for a piece of scotch tape. Again, this was odd behavior, since she knew
where the tape was and never hesitated to get it herself. So, once again, I got
up and gave her the tape. And, once again, she bolted up the steps and slammed
her bedroom door.
Figuring that something was up—the
silence was deafening!—I went up stairs, where I found the kleenex taped to the
wall, about two feet from the floor. I asked her what this was all about;
“nothing” was her reply.
Since in my opinion “nothing” usually means
“something,” I removed the kleenex that was taped to the wall, as she watched
in absolute horror.
There, under the kleenex, was a crayon
mark.
” What’s this?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she replied.
But it wasn’t “nothing.” She knew quite
well that coloring on the walls was “something” that was clearly not
acceptable. She “sinned” by doing that which she had been told was not
permitted—coloring on the wall. And she tried to cover it up, hoping that I
would not notice.
Now, had she not asked for the kleenex
and tape, I probably would have never noticed her colorful “sin” in the first
place, as I rarely, if ever, inspected the walls for crayon marks. But by
trying to cover up the crayon marks in the hope that I wouldn’t notice them,
she only made them more obvious, and committed a second sin in the process—one
by which she tried to deceive me.
My point here is that when we refuse to
confess what we have done, we commit a second sin—a sin of pride, by which we
are unwilling to acknowledge what we have done to another person, often
justifying this by thinking, “Well, I didn’t really hurt anyone.” We also sin
by thinking that we are “pulling the wool over” God’s eyes, which we cannot do.
He knows our hearts and He alone judges the sincerity of our repentance—and a
key element in genuine repentance is acknowledging to God and to others that we
are indeed sinners.
I assure you that there is no sin that
would shock a priest out of his sensibilities; at the same time, should a priest
in whose presence you choose to reveal even the most shocking sin in a spirit
of true repentance reject you for doing so, consider it a blessing and find
another confessor.
But I don’t know a priest who would
shun one who genuinely repents and genuinely seeks the means by which even the
most serious sin can be overcome and brought under control, and I know plenty
of priests who would, in fact, applaud one who confesses openly, honestly, and
with a true spirit of repentance.
A saint of the Church once opined that
the angels in heaven dance for joy when a sinner repents; believe me, the
priests on earth do the same thing!
So continue to ask God daily for
forgiveness, but please do not overlook the need everyone has—including
priests!—to seek guidance and direction in overcoming sin. And never forget
that, if it true that God often heals the physically ill by guiding the hands
of a surgeon, He also heals the spiritually ill by guiding the words and advice
of a priest.
Source: https://oca.org/questions/sacramentconfession/confessing-in-the-presence-of-a-priest
